Nelle

by Sarah Dechand

Part 5

Waiting.

Moving to our new apartment could have been a turning point in our relationship, but it wasn't. Instead, there was kind of a slow shift. Slowly, I began to drop all pretense of masculinity, prefering a kind of androgynous look instead. I seldom wore pants with pockets, and always carried a purse. I did my nails, sometimes even had them done professionally, and wore a little make-up – just enough to cover my beard (which fortunately was pretty thin.) In fact, when I looked at my closet, there was hardly an item of male clothing left, although I still owned no skirts or dresses.

And Nelle was changing too. Her hard work and charisma were paying dividends at work, and she was becoming a key to making many of the deals happen. I had to admit she had a much better sense of how to win a client over than I did, and her organizational skills were better than just about anyone I’d ever met. Madison was delighted, but privately, he must have sensed that she could become a rival. He kept her close, and wouldn’t give her a title or an assistant, like many of the other executives. For her part, Nelle saw excactly what Madison was doing and began to cultivate a cold internal rage. This treatment was the very definition of the term "glass ceiling." But it didn’t stop her from working hard and winning contracts.

For my part, after my humiliation in the pea-green suit, I knew that I would not last long at the office. Nelle arranged for me to get a job at a bank nearby, where her friend from college was a manager. Nancy was short and round, and kind of unsophisticated. Where Nelle was smooth and persuasive, Nancy was blunt and forceful, and where Nelle had an appreciation for the subtleties of authority, Nancy understood naked power. She managed her branch of the bank strictly by the book, and enforced rules by taking corrective action when necessary. As a result, it semed like an unpleasant place to work, but I had no choice. I needed to escape Madison and Nelle at the office, and here was a job that could be had.

Our move to the suburbs also meant that we went out less, and partied much, much less. Or maybe it wasn’t that we were living in the suburbs, but that Nelle was working much harder. Or maybe it was that I had grown tired of Nelle pushing the envelope and trying to make me more and more feminine when we went out. Or maybe it was all just getting old.

It seemed like I was always waiting for Nelle. I waited in the morning for her to approve my outfit for the day, and since my day ended at 4 p.m., I was always waiting for her to come home for dinner. Or if we went home together, I waited for her to finish at work. I killed time by shopping, or getting my nails done. On the weekends, I waited for her to get up in the morning, to decide how we’d spend our day. In fact, it seemed like I never really got to make plans at all for us. I was more like Nelle’s accessory, or her pet, than her partner.

Not that this seemed to matter to Nelle. She was well absorbed in her own life, and frankly, since I was no longer a really boyfriend but more like a roommate, I was just less important. It’s true, she did try to make me more and more feminine, buying me clothes, cosmetics, and perfume. But I resisted and things just seemed to stall altogether.

Although we still slept in the same bed, our sex life was running out of steam. Nelle was not at all interested in me as a man, and frankly, getting dildo fucked by her every night made me sore but didn’t turn me on. There was however, the daily thrill of knowing I appeared somewhat how Nelle wanted me to – like a complete and total sissy.

I hated to admit it, but Nelle was right about me. I loved being so totally controlled by her. But on the other hand, I wasn’t at all keen on being controlled by others. In particular, my job at the bank was trying, since Nancy enjoyed having me to kick around. The job was boring, and there were plenty of rules – and a dress code – strictly business attire, which for me meant blouses that closed at the neck and slacks, worn with a jacket. When Nelle was in a particularly playful mood, the slacks zipped in back and blouse fastened in back. The job involved lots of completely un-creative, mechanical, counting and sorting and filing. But it was money, and it was important, and had to be done correctly.

And, the cherry on top of the Sunday, Nelle’s insistence on a diet rich in sugar, fat, and dairy had turned me into a soft and flabby person. Although my figure had been feminized through the use of the body shaper and waist cincher, with flab pushed down to my ass and up to my chest, I just didn’t feel sexy. And I didn’t want to feel sexy to anyone but Nelle, anyway. But Nelle didn’t want me to give, just to take, and I wondered whether there was any future for us at all, so I began to plot my escape.

It wasn’t going to be easy, and I’d have to move out of town and really start anew. I’d have to account for a 1 year gap in my resume, and I wouldn’t be able to give Madison as a reference. I’d also be starting with nothing in the bank, since Nancy and Nelle had arranged for my salary to be deposited directly into Nelle’s bank account. I had also, in one of my many moments of weakness, let Nelle confiscate and cancel my credit cards.

It would take a week of saving my lunch money, I figured, to get together enough for a post office box. When I had the P.O. box, I could get the credit card. When I had the credit card, I would be able to buy plane tickets, and get set up in another town. While I didn’t have a clue about where, I thought someplace on the opposite coast would work.

And Nelle didn’t really catch on to me, either, amazingly. But it seems she had some plans of her own.

I awoke one Saturday morning, and it was late. Nelle must have turned off the alarm, but she wasn’t in bed lazing around, either. I got up and straightened out my nightgown, and went to find Nelle – the kitchen was the first place I’d look, but I didn’t make it that far. The door to our bedroom had been locked. From outside. After examining the situation for a bit, I stumbled back to bed, and sat my fat ass down to consider what to do next.

This was where Nelle found me an hour later. I must have looked angry, because she seemed to recoil a bit when she entered the room. She tried to smooth things over with kind words, but this was exactly the problem. I wasn’t having any more of the "Don’t be cross, pumpkin" shit anymore. So she changed her tactics.

"Look at you, you big disgrace. You used to be fun, but now, you’re shit. You’ve lost any sense of initiative you ever had. You don’t even fight back anymore. Look at you – fat! and lazy! – in your frilly nightgown, just waiting for me to make the next move. Well, I’m making it now. There are going to be some changes around here. I’ve had all I can take of this androgynous game. Once and for all, I’m going to make you my girl, and you’re going to like it! You’re going to…

"Oh bullshit!" I interrupted, but Nelle kept right on going.

"shave your legs now!"

"What!?"

"You’re going to march right into that bathroom and shave your legs, so you can start wearing skirts like a proper girl."

For a moment, there was silence. I was about to shout back but Nelle beat me to it. Letting out a scream that radiated with divine, or demonic, power, she raced towards me and struck the side of my head with the meat of her hand, a surprising and painful blow which literally knocked me to the floor. The scream of anger which had been building up in me escaped as a scream of pain and humiliation instead, as Nelle advanced and hit me again and again, as I vainly tried to escape and block her blows.

But fat, weak, and clumsy, I couldn’t seem to get out of the way, and I broke down and dissolved into a thin childish wail, as the tears rolled down my cheeks. Nelle stopped, and backed up. She looked down at me with an expression that I didn’t understand – somewhere between pity and anger – and turned and left the room. I curled up against the bed, an act that required me to adjust my frilly nightie, and sobbed.

When I had cried myself out, I looked around the house for Nelle. She had left, without a note, and seemingly, in haste. I wondered where she had gone for about 30 seconds, and I decided that I had better just get out. I put on the least feminine garments and shoes I could find, blue pleated pants and a blue oxford shirt, with black penny loafers and trouser socks over plain white panties – no more bodyshaper for me. I turned the house upside-down and finally found Nelle’s stash of cash – about $150. While searching, I found what was sure to be the next step in my ongoing feminization. Nelle had bought me half a dozen pleated skirts. I held one up, and noted that this particular skirt would be a good 4 inches above my knee. I dropped it, grabbed a fistful jewelry to pawn, and hustled to leave.

I walked out, leaving the keys behind, and locking the door. I didn’t want to risk changing my mind and going back. I wandered through town, down to the train station, and got on the next city bound train. I went to a pawn shop, and sold the jewelry for another $100. I stood there on the corner with 250 bucks in my front pocket (still no back pockets), no place to go, and a whole lot to run away from. I was hungry, fat, homeless, weak, and virtually unemployed.

I did the simple calculation: $250 would get me out of town, but little more. My choice was simply to live on the street in another town or to go home to my parents and family in abject humiliation. I chose family. At least they’d be happy to get rid of me, after I pulled myself together, which is more than I could say for the filthy embrace of the street.

I headed to the bus station, bought my ticket for 3 days of festering on a bus, and headed to a nearby thrift store to upgrade my wardrobe. I bought a couple pairs of pants and some shirts, and then I stopped into a drug store and picked up a package of 3 boxer shorts. I picked up a razor, some other necessities, and some food for the long trip, and headed back to the station. I had several hours more to kill before the bus left, so I found a nearby bar.

Sitting there, drinking, I played the scenario of the last several years over, and over again. Starting fresh in a new city. My first break – landing the job with Madison. My luck with women which led to a steady girlfriend. The relationship getting tired. Nelle. My slow, obsessive slide into feminized humiliation. Nelle.

The "atmosphere" of the bar, (if you could call it that), was poor and dangerous. It was on the edge, a man’s place, dark, filthy, and smoky. There were cheesecake calendars on the wall, and some of the nastiest grafitti I had ever seen in the bathroom. The owners obviously didn’t care much about maintenance, and the place stunk of beer. The jukebox was busted, and the TV showed a ball game without any sound. Men sat with plenty of space in between, and kept to themselves. The only woman I saw was the barmaid, who looked as tough and mean as any man. And for me, acting, walking, and talking like a man was like riding a bike. My learned feminine mannerisms, I was sure, had not totally taken over, and things were back to normal.

But there was a guy who seemed to take an interest in me. The dude wouldn’t leave me alone, asked questions, tried to get me to talk, as if he sensed somehow that I was weak or vulnerable. Maybe he could see the need dripping off of me like a cold sweat, or the dread that was brought on by having to return home to my parents house. I didn’t answer his questions directly, and said as little as possible. Even though I gave every imaginable hint that he should leave me alone, even asked him straight out to get out of my face. He stuck around, because he knew that I was not street, and that I was weak.

I couldn’t figure out his interest, but it seemed like the predatorial interest that an owl might show in a mouse. Then it began to turn sexual. He knew what I was, he said. He asked if he could suck my dick. He said he always wanted to do a she-male. I was mortified. I thought that I had managed to keep my femininity hidden, but I had not.

Finally, I said, "Listen, buddy, I’m not gay. I’m not a "she-male," I don’t turn tricks, and I’m tired of you and pissed off. If I buy you a beer, will you just go over there, and leave me alone?" The guy seemed surprised that I had stuck up for myself, and agreed, so I called over the barmaid.

But when I took out my wallet to pay for the beer, the guy suddenly swiped at the wallet, and it fell to the floor. He kicked at the wallet, and it skittered across the floor, towards the door. Before I could even hop off the barstool, he was gone with the last of my money, my bus ticket, and my ID. The barmaid, to her credit, did not charge me for the beer, but did suggest that I leave the bar at once. With some of my last remaining change, I made the only phone call I had left to make.

Nelle picked me up at the bus station. My heart soared when I saw the familiar silhouette of the Jetta come rolling to a stop, and I half-skipped to the drivers side to give her a big hug and kiss, but she left the window rolled up, and put up her hand to stop me. She was silent the whole ride home, and I could barely look her in the eye. I hoped fervently that she would at least talk to me so that we could find a way through the hurt, and I could tell her the whole humiliating story, but it seemed to be in vain. I would have to wait for another time. I hung my head and cried quietly all the way home.

As we entered the house, Nelle spoke, curt and full of anger. "Go straight to your new room, take off those hideous clothes, and wait there for me." My new room. As I walked down the hall, it dawned on me that the spare room was now mine, and that Nelle had kicked me out of our wonderful bed. I was facing a harsh punishment indeed.

Nelle had taken only little time with my new room. It had been just a spare room, never used, and still had a dusty, never realized character to it. There were no curtains on the windows. She had moved some of my clothes into the dresser, and placed linens on the bed. My make-up and jewelry had been placed in a pile on the bed, and my vanity had been pushed in, just past the door. I took off my clothes, went to the bed, and waited to face the music.

My great escape had proven to be a miserable failure, and I felt less able than ever to manage for myself, and more dependent on Nelle. I felt sure that her next move would make me even more dependent and weak. My tears had not stopped since the bus station, and as my thoughts roamed from corner to corner of my situation, I was fell into fits of shuddering sobs. After several cycles of these, Nelle entered, and poured down a hot, stinging rain of cruel words onto my bowed head.

"I can see you’re already sorry for that stupid move, but not as sorry as you’re going to be," she began, "I guarantee that you’ll never leave me again, unless I kick you out. There are going to be some changes around here alright, starting with your room here. No more big bed for us. You don’t love me. If you did, you wouldn’t have left. Since you don’t love me, you can’t sleep with me. You’ll sleep in here, by yourself instead."

"I don’t totally hate you, though, and I’m going to give you a chance to make it up to me. You’ll get to handle all the housework now, to show how much you care for me. You’ll keep the kitchen clean, the floors mopped, the carpets vacuumed, the bathrooms clean, the furniture dusted, the laundry done, and you’ll deal with all the bills, too. All under my supervision, of course, and while you may be required to do some cooking, it’ll be in my kitchen, and according to my wishes. You’ll have no say.

"But there are going to be some other changes around here as well. As you might have guessed, there will also be some wardrobe changes. I know that your submissive side is going to get a little charge out of your new uniform, but that’ll wear off before long, and like all uniforms, you’ll grow to resent it. Don’t worry, it’s nothing too fancy or freakish, and you’ll be able to wear it to the bank every day. But you’ll wear it every day, rain or shine, summer and winter, from morning ‘til bedtime, weekends too. Oh yeah. You’re not going to like this a bit. Now, go bathe, and shave your legs. When you come back, we’ll see about setting up your new room." I went wordlessly to the bathroom. The cruel torrent of words had stopped my tears.

I returned and put on the hated underwear again. Nelle also left a pair of white pantyhose on the bed, which I put on as well.

The uniform turned out to be a one-piece shorts outfit, which is why I was required to shave my legs. I would be saying farewell to pants for a while, and showing the world a nice, finely turned leg. Nelle had somehow found several of these shorts outfits in my size. They consisted of a white rayon blouse attached to rayon shorts, which were solid colors, checks, plaids, and polkadot prints. The whole affair was belted, or had some accessory vest attached, or a matching jacket. Some of the vests and jackets were trimmed with lace or beads, or had false pockets with lace hankerchiefs. Several of the outfits were embroidered with flowers or butterflies. Naturally, they all buttoned or zipped up the back, for a very feminine look indeed.

"How do you like your adorable new shorts outfits, pumpkin?" Nelle teased. "Do you think they look feminine enough? Here – try this one on!"

She handed me an outfit with mint green shorts that zipped up the back. The white blouse had slightly puffed sleeves and a round, unadorned collar. I stepped into it, pulled it up and put my arms through the sleeves, and noted that the collar was a little bit tight against my throat as Nelle zipped it up to the top. "You know what’s good about these little outfits, Pumpkin? I can easily fix them so that you can’t take them off yourself. That way I can make sure you are always in your panties and body shaper. And your pantyhose, which you’ll wear every day without exception – even in the summer."

"That’s so extreme," I started to say, but Nelle interrupted

"I don’t care if that’s what you think." She said, taking out a small gold chain and threading it through the zipper tab "You’ll just have to get used to wearing pantyhose every day, ‘cause you won’t be able to take them off." she continued, taking a small gold padlock and connecting the two ends of the chain, then clicking it shut. "Like your new necklace? That’s right. You’re just stuck, now, in your feminine little outfits until I decide to unlock you."

To make her point, Nelle refused to let me take off my new uniform while I set up my new room. I even had to sleep in it. Finally, in the morning, I was released to shower and urinate. It was such a relief.

So I wore another shorts outfit to the bank. It was a green and white gingham check, with a white blouse, and a matching false vest with embroidered flowers attached at the shoulder. The vest had two long ties which made a bow in the back. Unbearably cute, and totally geeky. White pantyhose and brown pumps completed the outfit. To make things worse, Nancy laughed out loud when she saw me. Although she was generally friendly, I could hear the hostililty and scorn hidden in her laughter. Of course, Nelle had told her about my new uniform, and she was the one who would release me and re-imprison me before and after bathroom breaks.

"Well, don’t we look even more put together than usual this morning?!" came Nancy’s greeting, after a few chuckles. She looked me up and down. "Your legs are nice, girl, and that outfit really shows off your figure. Do a turn for me!" I couldn’t. Everything she had said was true, and all I could do was stand there in embarassment. There was no hiding my smooth flat front, nipped in waist and round bottom in my new outfit. And my legs, now shaved smooth, shimmered in the shiny white pantyhose. My tan pumps, previously shaded by slacks, stood alone at the end of my long white encased legs.

"O.K. If you won’t twirl for me now, I promise, you’ll twirl later." said Nancy. "Now get to work." So I turned and started to walk toward the gate, but she stopped me. I was to work at the customer service desk today, and not at a tellers window, so as to maximize my exposure to the public.

There is something that women know, and that men know too, but won’t readily admit. It is that women’s bodies are much more interesting than men’s bodies. My outfit was teaching me this lesson every moment, as I noticed the customers "checking me out." And what was worse, I saw people passing by the bank’s big picture window, looking in, and looking me up and down. I felt like I looked stupid, because I was wearing a stupid outfit, with a bow in the back, and the humiliation was hard to bear. Finally, at about 11, Nancy came over and asked if I’d like to take an early lunch, before the rush of customers. I was relieved at the chance to be out of the public eye, or at least in a less conspicuous location.

We went to Betty’s Garden, for salads,and sat in a table that was not too close to the window. Our conversation was led by Nancy, who said she wanted to outline some of my new responsibilities at the bank. She was fascinated by Nelle’s method of punishing me, and equally fascinated that I would let it happen to me. Only thing was, I hadn’t just let it happen, and I hadn’t chosen it for myself either. As much as anything else, it was Nelle’s will that dictated my new uniform.

"I’ve got to hand it to Nelle," Nancy said, "those little shorts outfits are a great way to punish you. I mean, it would be embarrassing for me to dress like that all the time. So matchy, and put together. And you have to get totally undressed to use the bathroom. I can’t imagine how it feels to you."

"It is embarassing." I said, pushing my salad around the plate. My stomach felt uneasy.

"Yes, I’m sure it is." she laughed. "And that locking pendant is just diabolical! I’d hate to think what would happen if I lost the key."

"That would be awful." I said. "I hope you’ll keep it in a safe place."

"Well, I am a banker, so I should know a thing or two about that." said Nancy. "If your’re good, and handle your responsibilities with a smile, there should be no problem at all."

"What do you mean," I asked, "am I not doing a good job?"

"Well dear," said Nancy, "you’re doing fine, but Nelle wanted me to make sure that you got the maximum public exposure in your little outfits, so you’ll have some new reponsibilities. Your new title will be supervisor’s assistant. It’s a new position, created especially for you. You will help the supervisor – that’s me – with her responsibilities. I won’t ever let you hide behind the teller window again, that’s for sure. You’ll be out on the floor, at customer service, or directing people to the proper line. You’ll sign for packages, and you’ll run errands if necessary. In fact, I think we’ll all be very happy to have someone available to run errands for us during the day."

Hearing Nancy go on about the new order only made sick feeling in my stomach get worse. I hung down my head as she paid for lunch, and said little. I knew that I would really have to kiss Nancy’s ass, or she would undoubtedly make my life worse than it already was. With the new outfits, Nancy and Nelle could send me out on errands alone without worrying, since only they had the keys to the lock pendant.

 

 

 

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© 2002 by Sarah Deschand. All Rights Reserved. These documents (including, without limitation, all articles, text, images, logos, compilation design) may printed for personal use only. No portion of these documents may be stored electronically, distributed electronically, or otherwise made available without express written consent of the copyright holder.